


Nom de Guerre

by Raspberyl



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberyl/pseuds/Raspberyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 weeks after the fall of his kingdom, Eli has nothing but one nameless soldier left. Spoilers for episode 51. One-shot, Gen, Starring Eli "The White Mamba" and "The Third Boy"; Guest Starring Goats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nom de Guerre

“Hey.”

The boy in front of him stopped moving at his command, then turned around to face him. Before the psychic could delve into his mind to find the reason why Eli had spoken up so suddenly, the blonde pointed at an abandoned house nearby—though it didn’t really have anything that made it much of a house other than 4 concrete walls and a roof that was precarious at best.

He didn’t need to explain himself any further after that. He rarely ever did, really, especially as lately they struggled with food and water every day, so they couldn’t waste their energy on words anymore. Instead, they communicated through signs and the mental connection the  _Third Boy_  had established with him almost 6 months ago, reading each other’s intentions quietly without ever doing much more than glancing at the other.

As always, the redheaded boy disappeared in a flash. He was scanning the place for any threats, only to return to Eli’s side a second later and give him his status report: A soft nod that meant it was safe to venture forward. As he gently levitated to the entrance of the house, Eli watched his back and allowed himself an amused chuckle: He could sense his desire for sleep and food, though he had a feeling it was partly his own longing as well. After being parasitized by him for so long, the line that separated their emotions became blurry, and the more time it passed, the harder it was to differentiate what was Eli’s and what was the boy’s.

He was about to follow him before he heard something crack nearby. The blonde looked over to the west, and sure enough, his eye caught sight of a group of wild goats dozing peacefully. He reached for the shotgun on his back, and when his companion gave him a quizzical look, Eli replied with a smirk and a single word:

“Dinner.”

All it took was one well-aimed shot to bring one of the goats down—Not that he ever doubted it would take any more. Shotguns, machine guns, handguns, grenades… Anything that could be considered a weapon, Eli had already mastered the use of before he turned 10, and had used it on living beings more than once, too. It was knowledge he wasn’t supposed to have according to those older than him, but Eli was proud of it even if it was earned through Cipher’s training.

He easily cut the goat’s belly wide open while the Third Boy started a bonfire to cook the meat. It would make for a rather unsavory dinner without spices, but it was better than what they had survived with so far: Fruit bitten by animals and tasteless rations stolen from the outposts they had come across.

They had been traveling for 3 weeks.

3 whole weeks.

After losing Sahelanthropus, his soldiers, his kingdom, Eli had accepted the Third Boy’s helping hand and managed to avoid the Grim Reaper’s scythe once more. The psychic took him as far as he could so Snake’s men wouldn’t notice they had survived the napalm cleansing, and since then, they had been making their way back to Angola’s coast on foot. Or well— _Eli_  had made his way back on foot, as his companion had levitated through most of the trip. He didn’t really resent him, however, since he got tired just as he did, so he never really refused when the blonde decided it was time to rest.

“3 weeks…”

The boy rose his head. They had finished their meal (which he had eaten with his back to him to hide his face), and having his belly full with what had been his first satisfying meal in weeks, Eli was feeling talkative. He closed his eyes, fighting the drowsiness that came over him, and repeated:

“3 weeks. We’ve been traveling for 3 weeks.”

He knew he could understand him. The boy didn’t seem to know an extensive amount of English, but he knew enough for them to communicate properly. There was their mental connection, too, the one that was bilateral as the Third Boy hadn’t developed his powers enough to keep his own thoughts from flowing into Eli’s mind, so he received confirmation that he had understood him before the boy could tell him with words. That ended in a lot of one-sided conversations that were rather unsatisfying, but it was convenient for whenever they needed to communicate silently such as when infiltrating outposts to steal food and ammunition.

“3 weeks and 2 days.” He clarified, his voice muffled by his mask.

“Oh? Are you counting?”

“No… I just know.”

“Really? I mean, since you’re not the one hunting for food and looking for water, you have all the time in the world to count how many times the sun sets.”

Eli couldn’t see his face, but he knew the other boy was amused by his comment. It wasn’t true that he didn’t do anything, of course—He made stealing from unsuspecting soldiers far easier by surveying the outposts first, and whenever prey of his ran too far for him to shoot, he would block its path until it had no choice but to run back to their death.

3 whole weeks… though they had known each other for far longer.

“Hey.”

“… Yes?”

After another 5 minutes of silence Eli spoke up again. He wanted to bring up something that had been bothering him for a while, something the subject of time had brought back to his mind:

“I don’t know what to call you.”

The boy tilted his head.

“What?”

“I don’t know what to call you.” He said again. “All this time I’ve been calling you ‘hey’, and while that’s fine since it’s usually just the two of us, it’s not right that you don’t have your own name.”

“…” His breathing was loud through the mask’s canister. He looked down, then looked up at him again. “They used to call me 'The Third Boy’”

Eli shook his head. “No. That’s not the name I want. I want  _your_   _name_.”

The boy seemed troubled. “I… I don’t remember my birth name.”

“No, I don’t mean your 'birth name’ either.” Eli growled, running a hand through his hair impatiently. “I mean  _your name_. Not the one that adults gave you without your consent, a name of your choosing. Your  _nom de guerre_.”

“… I don’t have one.” He finally answered after another moment of deep thought.

“That’s no good. Every soldier needs a name.”

“A soldier…” He echoed, and Eli nodded.

“Yes. We are soldiers, you and I. Children—They foolishly accept the names given by their parents without question. But us, we are not children anymore, so we get to choose our own names.”

“I see.” He nodded his head in understanding, yet Eli still felt a cloud of confusion looming over the other boy’s mind. “What should my name be, then?”

“Well, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m not you. I can’t choose for you.”

“I see…”

That seemed to trouble the redhead even more, looking down as if he would find his answer written on the floor. He clearly didn’t, however, as the cloud in his mind grew larger, darker, heavier.

Eli snorted.

“It can’t possibly be that hard.”

“Ah.” He said quietly, startled out of his trance by his voice. “I… have never needed a name before.”

“Well, you do now.” The boy shook his head.

“No.  _You_  need me to have one.”

Eli rose his eyebrows, and then snickered. “Fair enough. Fine then, if that’s how you’re going to be, I can lend you a hand.”

“…Alright.”

The boy looked at him expectantly, holding his legs close to his chest with his arms, the sleeves of his straight jacket making them seem far longer than they actually were.

Oh… that’s right. There was something he had thought of before, but had never told him. Eli grinned, and when he sensed the change in his mood, the Third Boy tilted his head again.

“… Mantis.”

“Mantis.” He echoed.

“Yes, Mantis. You remind me of a praying mantis.”

“… What is a 'mantis’?”

“What? You don’t know what i—?” Oh… right. He forgot the boy didn’t really know much English aside from what was enough for basic communication, and the word 'mantis’ was an specific bit of knowledge.  "Uh, well, it’s a bug.“

"A bug?”

“Yes. It has long arms and it looks like it’s praying.”

“I don’t think I know this bug.” He confessed.

“Well, it’s kind of…”

Eli looked around for a stick, yet found nothing, so he used his own gloved finger to draw on the dusty floor next to his companion, instead. Trying his best to remember what a praying mantis looked like, he drew the long arms and the triangular head, then finished its body before looking at his finished masterpiece.

“…”

“…”

It looked… it looked  _nothing_  like a praying mantis.

It didn’t look like anything at all, really.

Ah—Whatever—Whatever—! He was a soldier, not an  _artist_. The Third Boy’s chuckle was distorted by his gas mask to the point it sounded almost like his regular breathing, but it was still different enough for Eli to feel a bit humiliated—He did  _not_  like to be laughed at.

… Even if it was for something he was… objectively bad at.

He dragged his hand across the floor to erase his drawing, irritated.

“It doesn’t matter! Just—!”

“ _Bogomol._ ”

“… What?”

“ _Bogomol._ ” He repeated. “A green insect, with long arms and a long, flat abdomen.  _Bogomol_.”

The blonde nodded. “Yes, that’s it… Wait. So you  _could_  tell what my drawing was?”

“… Not really.” Eli deflated slightly. “When you were drawing, you imagined it. I saw that image, and knew what you meant.” A pause. “Man…?”

“Praying mantis.” He said again. “That’s what they’re called in English.”

“I see.” The boy let go of his legs, and sat upright. “Why?”

“'Why’?”

“Why a 'mantis’?”

“Oh. I told you already, you just remind me of one.”

Eli saw him raise an eyebrow through the orange glass of his mask’s eye-lens outserts. “I remind you of a green insect.”

“No, no. Your jacket.” The boy looked down at himself and the blonde smirked. “The sleeves… They make your arms look like a mantis’. And your mask…” He gestured toward his head. “Makes your head look rather triangular.”

“… I see…”

“It was just a passing thought I had once, though. You can choose whichever name you want in the end—But you have to choose one.”

“No… No.” He shook his head, his red hair, that had grown longer during their trip, getting stuck in his mask. “I like it.”

“… Then keep it.”

The Third Boy—No,  _Mantis_  nodded, and when Eli felt a sudden surge of energy wash over him, he couldn’t help but grin. The other boy’s joy reminded him of how he felt when he picked his own name:  _Nyoka ya Mpembe_. He leaned back on their piled up bags, using them as pillows and closed his eyes.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Freedom. Freedom to choose your own name. To choose your own path. I earned mine when I escaped my 'handlers’… when I escaped Zero. And since then, I’ve been nothing but. Even when my father thought he had me caged…” He opened his hand, his palm facing up, and he placed his other hand on it, his fingers simulating the bars of a cage. Then, his fingers danced away, steel bars becoming the fluttering feathers of a runaway bird. “… but that was nothing but an illusion.”

“…”

Mantis traveled from Eli’s hands to the burning wood, his silence troubled.

“… What?”

“Is my freedom… real?” He asked, and the blonde frowned.

“What do you mean, 'real’?”

“Am I… am I free?” He said slowly, as if speaking took a great deal of effort for him. “My will—My thoughts—They’re all drowned by your own. Even now—It’s hard. Sometimes… I can’t remember what I do. So… am I… truly…?”

“Mantis.”

“…” It took him a moment to react to the name, still not used to it. “Yes.”

“You chose me.”

“…”

“Didn’t you?”

“… Yes…” He finally replied. “I remember. A source of power, like never before… From someone like me. So strong, it was the first time I heard my own voice within me after a long time. So I went to you.”

“That’s right.” Eli smirked. “You chose me. And being capable of making a choice— _That is freedom_. You were a slave under the influence of Skull Face, that man on fire, my father—Because you never chose to parasitize them. But me—You chose me, Mantis. I am your freedom.”

“… But even now… even my name… You gave it to me, too.”

“I only put it on the table. It was your choice to take it.”

“…”

Relief.

“Yes. I understand. Freedom…”

“I admit that it’s not the cleanest kind of freedom, though. I’m only the one you’ve been the most free with.” He conceded. “I know you still become overpowered by my will from time to time—But we will find a way for you to be completely able to think on your own soon enough. This won’t last forever, that I promise. I have no use for soldiers who can’t even think for themselves, after all.”

“… Thank you.”

He nodded and when the other nodded back, Eli could’ve sworn Mantis was smiling behind his gas mask.

“But… What should I call you? I don’t have a name for you… Aside from your birth name. And I know you don’t like it. I can feel it.”

“… You’re not wrong.” He said, his tone turning bitter. That name was given to him by those who created him—Those who had given him life without his consent. He despised it. “Well, I used to be called Nyoka ya Mpembe… But that name died with my kingdom. The White Mamba… that’s not me anymore.”

“Then…?”

“Then…”

What would his next name be?

Eli felt his throat tighten when a particular idea came to mind.

“I… my new name…”

“… Snake.”

Mantis’ eyes glinted behind his masks’ lenses.

“That is the name you’re thinking of.”

“…”

The blonde sat up straight, and looked at his hands.

Snake…

_Snake…_

“I am a copy.” He muttered. It was hard to push his voice past his throat, just like when he stared up at the gun barrel his own father pointed at him out of mercy. “… That’s what I was told by Zero. And so, I should eventually be just like  _him_ , right? That’s what a copy is.”

_Snake…!_

“But I… I refuse!”

He punched the ground in front of him, clenching his teeth so strongly that the pain radiated to his head. Mantis seemed impassive to his rage, yet that was only on the outside—Eli could feel him burning inside along with him, resonating with his resentment and hatred.

“I will not be a copy… I will not let my future be decided for me—I will not follow my father’s footsteps! And if I do… it won’t be because of fate, or genes. And I will be better… stronger. Copies—They are always exactly like the original. But me—I will be superior. I  _am_  superior.”

He clenched his fist, pressing it against his chest, against the burning pain inside of him.

“There can only be one Snake… There’s only room for one Snake in this world.”

He finally looked up at Mantis, his own determined blue eyes staring back at him in the reflection of his mask’s lenses.

“I will become the one Snake. I will defeat him, surpass him—And then—Then… I will not be a copy anymore.”

The boy nodded slowly, his seemingly neutral response soothing Eli’s rage slightly. He felt suddenly tired—Perhaps he had talked too much,  _felt_  too much. Perhaps it was just Mantis parasitizing his emotions again, like a leech draining his body dry. Whatever it was, Eli didn’t feel like even sitting up anymore, and laid back on their bags gain, spreading his legs and trying to muffle his burning fury under layers and layers of cool indifference as he always did.

Mantis still had one question, however.

“Snake… Are you truly free?”

“…”

He looked at him.

Mantis was staring at his face, analyzing it intently.

 _Snake_  had nothing to offer but a forlorn smile.

“I am.”

He closed his eyes.

“But, just like your freedom, it’s not the cleanest one either.”

“… I thought so.”

“Don’t worry. There will come a day when our freedom will be absolute. When you can fully control your own will, and when I become this world’s only Snake—Then, we will be free.”

The burning wood in front of them creaked weakly, and Snake’s voice became a murmur.

“We will be completely free… or we will die trying.”


End file.
